Ascent from Descent
by cat-trash
Summary: Flippant oneshot rewriting The Reichenbach Fall with a grislier fall and a fluffier resolution. Parody written for a friend.


**Author's Note: This is the first fan fiction I've ever published so sorry if it isn't great...I first wrote this as a bit of a joke so it's basically a crack-fic. I'd just quickly like to thank my friends Ewan and Lara for assistance and support, and encouraging me to start publishing!**

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"_Sherlock jumps off the building into a giant industrial fan only to be returned from the grave by Yugioh" – Ewan, 2015_

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?"

"This phone call," Sherlock's eyes began to mist. "It's my note."

Shaking his head, John felt the breath in his lungs turn icy. Breathing didn't seem to help him catch his breath. St Bart's swam in front of him.

"It's what people do, don't they," Sherlock's voice caught in his throat. He quickly righted himself. "Leave a note?" He could see him, small on the ground below. He looked so vulnerable, so alone. John was staring up at him, and he could feel the heart being burned out of John Watson. Suddenly he heard John's voice again, scratchy from the phone.

"Leave a note when?"

Sherlock tried to look John dead in the eye, but this was difficult from this altitude. A cool tear threatened to fall from his dark lashes. It didn't. He would be the one to fall.

"Goodbye John."

John heard these surreal words come from the speaker on his phone.

"No!" He snapped. The majestic form of Sherlock on the rooftop spread its arms like a raven and fell.

"Don't. No. SHERLOCK!" John was screaming now.

Sherlock's dark coat flapped around him as his speed increased. His arms flailed at his sides, as if attempting to fly away from his fate.

John was oblivious to the low buzzing noise that was coming from several feet in front of him. His eyes were locked upward. Sherlock however was not oblivious to this noise. His eyes widened in terror as he speedily approached the enormous steel fan whirring below him. This wasn't part of the plan. Mycroft you bastar-

Sherlock's thoughts were cut off as he impacted the fan. His lean body was spun like a rag doll, his heavy coat snagged on a blade. His precious curls were torn from his pale head as his skull was ripped horizontally in two by one of the blades, splashing scarlet matter into the air. Gripped by the momentum of the giant fan, Sherlock was pulled into the spinning blades like a sheet of paper into a shredder. In an instant, but way too slowly, the fan pulsed through the detective, catapulting fractions of limbs all around, as the fan became more crimson than silver.

John's wet eyes, which had followed Sherlock's doomed form from the rooftop to the ground, were glazed wide and staring at the burgundy industrial fan, still spitting out entrails and a fountain of blood. A little of this projected blood spattered onto John's cheek, warm.

A vivid blur was running towards John from around the corner of the hospital; but he did not see this. This blur had large magenta spikes framing black hair and golden bangs. Spikes bobbing behind him, the stranger sprinted up to John Watson and collided with him, taking him down. John's reverie remained unbroken, as the barbed man pulled some cards from his sleeves. Hot tears streamed down the doctor's paralysed face as his brain failed to comprehend the sudden violent end of his best friend, to whom he'd never confessed his undying love. The gaudy-haired stranger pulled John's shoulders up and to face him, and clutched at his jacket.

"J-John, we haven't met yet, but trust me I know what I'm doing and I'm your friend- my name is Yugi and I'm here to help you, I-"

John didn't hear the eccentric's words. Sherlock was gone. Sherlock didn't know. Sherlock will never know. He was going to tell him…soon…and then he was going to find out if his beloved detective returned his affections…and now he'll never know…

Suddenly, Yugi jumped to his feet, raising a card into the air with an outstretched arm.

"I CHOOSE REBORN THE MONSTER AND RECALL SHERLOCK HOLMES FROM THE GRAVEYARD!" yelled Yugi, his chest heaving. He brought the card roughly to the pavement, passionately slapping it face down to the grey slabs. The card became outlined in a blue glow, and shimmered before disappearing into a cloud of shining fragments.

The ground beneath John and Yugi began to shake. The slab on which the card had been slammed trembled and cracked open. Further creaking and cracking beneath the surface could be heard, and the fissure grew darker as its depth increased. John was still sat up on the floor, still frozen like he'd been slapped in the face. Yugi smiled, lips parted, and gazed expectantly into the chasm that had formed.

The crack didn't look so random all of a sudden; the rock appeared to be in the formation of rough steps. Yugi made to descend these concrete stairs, but then stopped and stepped back as a figure ascended. The figure was shrouded in shade; they were still quite deep down and dark British rain clouds had partially obscured the sun. As the figure grew closer to the surface, more and more features could be discerned: tall lean build, probably a male, a dark mass of hair, long calculated stride; and then, as he grew ever closer…razor sharp chiselled cheekbones…

Sherlock Holmes had returned from the graveyard.

He had reached the surface. He looked around, a furrow in his thick brows, searching for something. Someone. Yugi went to greet him, beaming. Sherlock's grey-green eyes met his purple ones, they became wary, frowning: Yugi was not the one he was seeking. However, Yugi picked up one of Sherlock's hands, held it between both of his, and bowed slightly.

"I'm so glad to make your acquaintance finally Mr Holmes. We'll meet again. But for now, I'll leave you to your doctor…" Yugi winked at the detective, released his hand, and strode away.

Sherlock spun round to find the object of his search; his favourite clean shaven doctor.

There he was, crumpled on the floor; his beautiful face the pinnacle of suffering. John was not supposed to look like this. Scarf flapping behind him, Sherlock rushed to his friend, and sank down to his knees to be face to face with him. John was still staring blankly, no movement from his unseeing eyes.

"John…there's something I should say. Something I've meant to say always, and never have. Since there's no use waiting for a more appropriate time, I might as well say it now."

Something stirred in John's eyes then. A slight sparkle. Hope. John's hope that never completely disappeared. He blinked for the first time in many minutes, wetting his dry eyes. They weren't used to the moisture, and rejected it, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. He released a raspy breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. Sherlock…

"Sher..." John craned his neck upward to look at his tall friend. Sherlock's porcelain perfection gazed back at him, swirling green-grey eyes full of suppressed emotions.

John's eyes overflowed with endless tears as he jumped on the detective, knocking him over in a tackling hug. Sherlock froze momentarily in surprise, but then melted into the embrace, enthusiastically gripping his best friend's shoulders with glee. They sat like this for several minutes, at home in each other's arms. It was John who broke the embrace, to Sherlock's obvious disapproval. He let his face betray his emotions for once, and the emotions were clearly discernible in that moment. Realising this, he pulled together his face into an easy smile for John, raising one perfect eyebrow expectantly.

"What was that thing you've always meant to tell me, Sherlock?" smiled John.


End file.
